Weeds grow where they want to; not where they're told to grow...

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Richard Wink

Richard Wink is a poet and raconteur from the picturesque rabid pastures of Norfolk, revelling in high octane madness and mundane meanderings along the Wensum. Wink's passionate wordplay is displayed in this magbificent collection: The Magnificent Guffaw.
 
He stares at the stars, part myth part mortal. Enigmatic, bombastic and eccentric - here is a writer riding the wave of precocious productivity and if you want to get in touch with him (and you surely will) then click HERE... and if you want to buy his book then click on the cover opposite or if you use paypal add it to your orange shopping cart...
 
Wink is also editor of the creatively insane literary journal Gloom Cupboard

Guts Up

This road has a cut through where the drunks stop to puke
An empty bottle of PVA and white smeared plastic bags leads me to
conclude that the local kids have learnt how to sniff glue.
If you time it right you can avoid the hassle
Walk through the cut through without the fear of being mugged.
On occasion you can confuse them by playing a mental from the local hospital
chuck a rotten cabbage
scream like a dirty filthy banshee.
By this rule of thumb
madness conquers fear

Friday
a brick came through the window.
I didn’t account that they would follow be home,
or that the next morning
my car would be burnt out down the alley

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